When We Were Golden
by Ms.Fortunate
Summary: Betty, Fran, and Oli were inseparable their 5th year at Hogwarts, but before they became friends they were simply trying to get through the school year one day at a time. Growing up in the wake of the wizarding war wasn't easy, but it was a little more tolerable knowing they had each other. (Coming of Age Marauders Era) / (Slowburn Sirius/OC)
1. Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

Because this is a bit of an unusual story, I think it deserves an unusual start (hence the author's note). What you're about to read is a coming of age story set in the time of the Marauders. It does have the Marauders, but is mainly about my OCs. Though it is also a Sirius/OC slowburn. I started writing this because I love stories about friendship and I wanted to read more of them, but sometimes I couldn't find them the way I wanted them written. So I wrote my own. It has some of my thoughts about growing up, feelings, and just things I wanted to share. Each chapter starts with an affirmation. Just something to think about, lessons I've learned that kind of allude to what the chapter will essentially be about. And ends with an author's note. So I hope you'll give this a try, and a big thank you to those of you who have.


	2. Prologue

Sometimes you can be surprised by how much you need your friends.

 **Prologue: An Unconventional Start to the Year**

 **1975 - (5th year)**

At exactly 10:45 am King's Cross was full of a particularly curious kind of people. They wore funny little hats with cloaks that fell to their feet, and dressed in rather dreary colors. The commuters at King's Cross were far too worried about their own schedules, constantly checking the clock to make sure their trains would arrive on time, that they scarcely noticed as groups of peculiarly dressed people walked by. Even more surprising was that they failed to realize those same groups of people disappeared a few minutes after they passed, walking through a brick wall between Platforms 9 and 10.

The wall was magic. Yet magic was something adults no longer believed in, easily denying its existence. They instead believed the funny looking people were part of a theater group, off to a performance on stage. People do that when they don't want to face the truth; they make up stories that make sense to them.

The pedestrians however did turn their heads when a group of teenagers walked by. They were a rowdy bunch. Loudly they rushed through the crowds, their feet stomping against the tiles in a rhythm. Their voices carried across the station, filling in silences and snapping people out of their daydreams. They were wild, the kind of boys that made conservative parents roll their eyes, pointing them out to their own children and explaining that they were not to be like _that_. But children who were so wild and so fearless had a zest for life glittering in their eyes. They were the ones who couldn't wait to learn all that the world had to offer. They remained like that even if their parents instructed against it.

The boys raced through the station, pushing carts that were heavy with suitcases and an occasional owl, which didn't help them remain inconspicuous. They were advised not to attract attention, though they took that advice with a grain of salt. As they ran their hair gleamed with the morning rays of sun which peered through the towering glass windows overhead. Jet black, light brown, blonde. Much like their hair colors their personalities were just as different.

"Oi Pettigrew, hurry up or we'll miss the train," James Potter announced, he was a tall boy, with a mop of disheveled black hair. Perched on his nose was a pair of dark rimmed, rectangular glasses. A few feet behind James was a short boy with dusty blonde hair, struggling to keep up though tried his best not to show it.

"I'm... c-coming… a-lright!" Peter Pettigrew huffed. His legs burned with every step he took, a constant reminder of how out of shape he was. Peter had tried out for the Quidditch team almost every year, though it was only ever for the sake of trying out, and never because he was actually interested in the sport. He had been upset about not getting on the team years prior, but if he were to look back on it, the sport would have only stressed him out. For half a second, while taking deep breaths of air through his mouth, the boy wished he had made the team, knowing for a fact that he would not be struggling to keep up with his mates if things turned out in his favor.

The boys that flanked Peter's sides were now ahead of him, with James taking up the front. The fabric that made up the boys' sweaters and jackets moved in the breeze as they maneuvered their way through a crowd.

"James, slow down, Peter can't keep up," called the boy on the right whose pale skin was covered in scars. One especially noticeable one was running from the bridge of his nose to his left cheek. Even with the scars the boy was good looking, the shadows under his eyes less pronounced than they normally would be. He slowed down his pace, and Peter caught up, a look of gratitude spreading across his features.

"Come on Remus," James said impatiently, but after glancing over his shoulder slowed down as well, until it was only the tall, black haired boy left running. "Oi! Black! Wait up!"

Sirius Black turned around, his striking blue-grey eyes looked from Peter to James to Remus. He waited in place as the boys caught up before saying "Since we're going to miss the train, I suggest ditching school altogether and crashing at James's summer house."

"T-thanks" Peter exclaimed, out of breath at the same time James assured Sirius that they were not, under any circumstances, going to miss the train. They passed Platform 8, feet tapping rhythmically on the glossy floor. A flood of emotions passed through each of the boys, and the adrenaline intensified their excitement.

James glanced at the large clock overhead. It was four minutes to eleven.

"4 minutes and counting-" Sirius stated, but was quickly interrupted as an older woman walked in front of his cart. He swerved around her just as the sign for Platform 9 came in sight.

"Nice reflexes there" James laughed good naturedly, his glasses sliding down his nose as he did so.

"It's what makes me the best chaser on the team," he said with a wink, running ahead of the group. He looked around quickly to make sure people were distracted before sprinting into the wall between platforms 9 and 10. He disappeared.

"Oi! Come on!" James interjected, but Sirius was already gone.

Remus, who started to increase his pace, was the second one to run through the wall. He too disappeared.

James adjusted his glasses as he took a quick glance at the clock. It was three minutes to eleven. He wanted to scream, and quite frankly push Peter the rest of the way. But instead he remained composed, staying by his friend's side and voicing encouragement. Finally as Peter, red-faced and sweaty, made it through the wall, James Potter was quick to follow.

The commuters who saw this odd scene take place, denied it. For magic was not really real, and it surely was their eyes playing tricks on them. They blinked a few times, rubbing their eyes before returning to their mundane tasks. Yet a few feet away a muggle boy who witnessed the bizarre occurrence knew deep in his gut that something odd was going on around him. Something that he couldn't quite explain. He was starting to put together the pieces.

What was on the other side of the wall was nothing short of extraordinary. The Hogwarts Express, a beautiful red steam engine, rumbled as it was preparing to depart. Children poked their heads out of the windows of the train, waving to their parents, who took the time to go over a few choice reminders before leaving their children. The whole platform was bustling with people: witches, wizards, and a muggle or two here and there. It was a sea of colors; hues of reds, blues, and yellows dotted the boys' vision.

James and Peter raced towards the train, squeezing past people, and yelling for them to move aside, (James did all the yelling) until they spotted Sirius and Remus loading their luggage. Sirius disappeared in the train, looking for an empty compartment, while Remus continued to move luggage. A lanky boy with brown hair parted neatly to the side and clear blue eyes walked out of his compartment, towards Remus.

"For some reason I didn't expect you lot to be this late," he said with a warm smile, helping Remus pull the rest of his luggage up.

"Thanks Oliver," he mirrored the smile, "you can blame James. We left late because he wasn't finished packing his suitcase," Remus explained as both James and Peter joined them. Peter doubled over with his hands on his knees breathing deeply through his mouth.

"Come on Peter, at least get on the train with your owl," James said, pulling Peter's suitcase off the cart and passing it to Remus and Oliver. "Hullo, Oliver," he added with a smile.

The thing about James Potter's smiles were that, when genuine, they had the ability to light up his face and just about force you into a pleasant mood. It was his magic power, though magic had nothing to do with it. Oliver smiled back. When Remus handed him the last suitcase, he placed it down as quickly as possible, massaging his arms afterwards.

"Quite the heavy lifter, aren't you Bones," Sirius noted as he returned to the group.

"Funny. You should be happy I helped," Oliver retorted dryly, watching as both James and Peter climbed aboard the train. Seconds later the whistle sounded overhead. Oliver held the door open, peering out into the crowd.

"Bets! The train's about to leave!" he called out. He noticed Sirius tense behind him. A second later a dark skinned, curly haired girl ran to the open door. Her hair bounced with every step she took and she effortlessly weaved through the crowd holding a cat in her arms. Oliver extended his arm out, which the girl took, and he helped pull her up onto the landing. A second later the train started to move, and the party inside was jerked to the side by the sudden movement.

"Oh mon dieu. Thanks Oli," the girl said with a soft French accent, looking down at her cat to make sure she was alright.

"No problem Betty, er-" Oliver said with a bit of uncertainty, looking back at the boys behind him.

It took Betty a few seconds before she looked up and comprehended who was standing in front of her, her smile dropping completely. The atmosphere of the train changed when her expression did. Where there once was excitement and a tinge of anxiety, there was now just an uncomfortable silence. The noise of gears turning and metal whirring filled the half a second of silence where the group just looked at each other in uncertainty.

"Hullo Peter, Remus, James," Bernadette Bertrand said finally, composing herself and reciting their names in the same way one would read an academic book aloud. Her effort to avoid making eye contact with Sirius was clearly noticed by the party. The boys in turn all looked at Sirius, who managed to keep a cool composure, something that he, in the worst of times, found he had trouble doing. "Right, well I'm going to go to our compartment then," Betty said after a beat before turning on her heels and slipping through the sliding door on her right. Oliver, who tended to twiddle his thumbs when uncomfortable found himself doing so. James whistled into the silence, casting a look at Sirius.

"What?" Sirius asked when he noticed all eyes were glued to him.

"Nothing," James said quickly, "we just thought… you know...that you-"

"That I what?" Sirius cut him off.

"That you talked to her," Oliver cut in, running a hand through his hair nervously, "Er- well I should go." Oliver pointed to his compartment awkwardly before retreating.

As Oliver left Remus blew out a breath, "Well that wasn't weird at all," he said sarcastically, looking at Sirius, who shrugged his shoulders.

"Let's just go to our compartment," Sirius responded evasively. He picked up someone's suitcase as he made his way down the corridor. The remaining Marauders followed him. The train's corridor allowed for two people to walk comfortably side by side, but because they were carrying luggage in hand, the boys moved through the train in a line. Muffled conversations were heard from every compartment they passed.

"10 knuts says he goes two months without talking to her," Peter whispered to James who smirked.

"20 knuts says he goes four," James whispered back.

"I know you two are talking about me- so quit it will you" Sirius muttered unenthusiastically in front of them.

"Someone's really sensitive today, first day of school no less" Remus noted in amusement but Sirius ignored him.

The boys made their way along the corridor as the train sped through a forest, the early afternoon rays of the sun poking through the shapes created between the leaves, speckling the boys in warm hues of color. Excitement was starting to return to the upcoming fifth year students.

"Sirius is just upset because he messed up his chances with the only girl in school that can beat him at Quidditch," James started to say through a smile. Though he wouldn't admit it, he wanted to see if anything he said got under his friend's skin. Messing with Sirius was, and continues to be, one of his favorite pastimes.

Sirius rolled his eyes, "Let's not talk about my love life."

"Last I checked, you seemed more than happy to talk about everyone else's," Remus stated, as Sirius pulled open the door to the compartment.

"Well at least I haven't been trying to get with the same bird for 4 years straight, with no success,"

James's smile dropped, "I wouldn't say there was no success because there's definitely been major progress. She waves and acknowledges me now." James said this in a friendly tone, his smile spreading across his features, ignoring the frustration ebbing into his friend's voice.

"Right…" Sirius said, not at all convinced.

Remus pushed past Sirius and into the compartment, where two wide-eyed first years sat staring at the fifth years, identical looks of alarm etched on their young faces.

"Er, you two don't mind do you?" Remus asked, politely enough but also with a firm tone that solidified the fact that the group wasn't planning on leaving.

The two first-years, a girl and boy both shook their heads nervously, inching towards the window so as to leave the group with the most space.

"Well they weren't here when I found the compartment," Sirius noted before tossing luggage on the rack overhead.

The two children exchanged a worried glance between one another before getting up and moving towards the door. The four boys did nothing but watched their retreating figures as they hurried past them.

"Seriously?" Remus said turning to Sirius, but the latter smirked in response. Remus frowned.

"What did you expect?" smiled James, "He is Sirius."

...

Bernadette Bertrand wasn't great at holding grudges, but she managed to keep her frustration with Sirius going on for the whole summer. But he deserved it. Or so she told herself. When she slid open the door to her compartment she was greeted by her best friend, Francesca Walsh, a chubby red haired witch with wavy ginger hair. The witch was seated by the door of an otherwise empty compartment with a magazine open on her lap. A frown appeared on her face the second she noticed her friend walk through the door.

"Betty I can tell you're in a sour mood," Fran said as her friend took a seat opposite her, setting down her cat on her lap.

Fran did that a lot: reading situations correctly. Her passion of divination was the source of her accuracy.

"Nice to see you too Fran," Betty replied, ignoring her friend's statement.

Fran closed her magazine and gave her friend a pointed glance,"What happened? You were fine when you got on the train an hour ago."

Betty blew a strand of curly hair out of her face, glancing at Fran out of the corners of her eyes. Francesca waited patiently. She knew that the truth always came out of Betty in one way or another. Soon enough Betty let out a loud sigh, bringing her head down to touch her knees. The black cat on her lap voiced its protest and jumped out before the space became too confined.

"Fran. I have been trying," Betty mumbled to her knees, "but Sirius still hasn't apologized and don't you think he should apologize? Isn't apologizing the right thing to do? I mean I didn't want this- this awkwardness to go on after last year, but here it is and to be honest I got this far and he should realize by now that he was in the wrong-"

Fran raised an eyebrow, only catching the gist of what Betty was saying, "so you ran into Sirius in the corridor?" Betty sat up and sank in her seat looking miserable.

"I ran into the lot of them. Bloody Marauders," Betty huffed.

Outside, the sun was shining in through the windows, illuminating the compartment the girls sat in as they discussed the events of a few moments prior. Oliver walked into the compartment moments later, a concerned look on his face that soon shifted into a smile once he noticed Betty's improving mood. He took a seat to her right.

"Oli! You haven't told us about your summer trip yet. What was it like, running around shirtless in the rainforest?" Betty asked watching his cheeks turn scarlet.

"It was hot," Oliver admitted, "but I kept my shirt _on._ "

Fran giggled, watching as the two bantered.

"Speaking of!" Oliver exclaimed suddenly, "I learned that the Mayans practiced divination, trying to foresee the future- you know, all about when the right time to plant crops was, what the natural disasters would be- it was fascinating. I picked up a book about it for you," he said turning to Fran.

Fran's face lit up in excitement. She looked over Oliver's shoulder while he rummaged through one of his bags, finally pulling out a slightly worn book with a fancy red and yellow cover. Fran accepted it with a grin, flipping through it as Oli explained the rest of his trip in great detail.

He was halfway through explaining his second day in Mexico when the door of their compartment opened to reveal a witch with a thin, yet curvy figure. She had eyes the color of sapphire and shoulder length golden hair.

"Marlene," Betty acknowledged, glancing at the girl with disinterest, "can we help you?"

Marlene's eyes quickly traveled around the compartment before she answered, "Not anymore. I was looking for Sirius."

A beat passed between the group.

"Not here," Betty said flatly, turning her attention back to Oliver. Fran peered up from her book in interest.

"Clearly. Well if you do see him-" Marlene began as Betty cut her off.

"If I see him I won't-"

"Tell him to find me"

"Tell him to find you"

They finished the sentence together, glaring at each other for half a second before Marlene composed herself.

"Well fine," the blonde haired witch replied turning on her heels and closing the door a little too forcefully.

Betty grimaced, turning to her friends who wore similar expressions. Before she got to say anything there came a knock on the door.

"What do you want now?" Betty assumed Marlene had returned, and the question died on her lips as the door was pulled open by a smiling trolley witch. Though when she looked at her Betty could have swore that the older witch's smile looked almost threatening.

"Anything from the trolley dears?" she asked, and a guilty feeling caused Betty to buy a little more than she could eat: three cauldron cakes, pumpkin juice, and a chocolate frog. She passed a cake to Fran as Oliver bought a pumpkin pasty. The trolley witch turned to leave.

"She looked like she would hex me," Betty admitted when the plump witch had gone.

"Oh come on, the trolley witch? She's harmless" Oliver said taking a bite out of his pumpkin pasty.

Betty shrugged, dismissing the thought. She turned to look out of the window. The familiar city landscape was now being replaced by rolling hills of brilliant greens. The sky shone a deep blue and Betty felt a tinge of excitement returning to her as she thought about Hogwarts. Hogwarts with its century old walls, dimly lit classrooms, quills, and quidditch pitch. She smiled to herself, content in knowing that in only a few more hours she would be back.

...

As the train made its way across the picturesque landscape of Scotland the students inside chattered enthusiastically. Dark fabric danced through the corridors. Hats were adjusted, sweets ingested. The sun gradually moved across the sky, and the magic that the students shared before returned to them on that train ride back to school.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter! The next one takes place at the beginning of third year and the story goes from there so if you were a bit confused that would be why. I keep track of when the next update will be out on my tumblr page, and have also created a character page there as well (link in my profile). Anywho, reviews are always appreciated!**


	3. The Move

Beginnings are hard, but they're nothing you can't handle.

 **Chapter 1: The Move**

 **\- Summer of 1972 -**

 **Betty**

Sitting in the back of her father's beat up Chrysler watching her beloved city of Paris fade from view was not Betty's ideal way of spending her Saturday morning. Actually, it was far from it.

First of all, there was the Chrysler. From the outside the car appeared normal. It was white with a few dents from past incidents, more often than not involving her father and heavy traffic. The inside was an entirely different story. Betty sat with her arms wrapped around her knees on a wobbly stool, her feet occasionally brushing up against the keys of their old grand piano. The Chrysler was enchanted to be a bit larger on the inside, big enough to carry all their belongings from their flat in Paris to their new home in middle-of-nowhere England. Mrs. Bertrand hadn't been specific about the exact location.

Betty drifted her eyes around the inside of the Chrysler, where furniture was thrown haphazardly and boxes of clothing were spilling over. Betty caught her mother looking at her from the rear-view mirror. Mrs. Bertrand was a willowy woman with high cheekbones and a thin mouth. She had chestnut brown hair that fell a little past her shoulders, and which she usually kept secured in a large hair clip. If it weren't for the light dusting of freckles that she shared with Betty it would be impossible to tell that the two were at all related. Mrs. Bertrand's complexion was pale, which contrasted greatly with Betty's dark skin. Betty turned away from her mother's gaze, looking out the window just in time to catch a glimpse of the eiffel tower in between rows of buildings. It looked smaller and smaller with every passing mile her mother placed between them and their flat. Betty sat stubbornly on the stool, refusing to meet her mother's eyes, and not at all pleased with the arrangement.

A few minutes passed before Betty started to shift uncomfortably in her chair. She started thinking of her friends and not surprisingly, a wave of sadness washed over her. Thinking about Paris was also making her sad. Thinking of anything of the sort was making her a little more miserable by the second, which in turn made her a little agitated. But for the most part she attributed her feelings of sadness to the fact that she wasn't sure when she would see her father again.

Betty's father, a college professor at the University of Paris, was left behind in their second floor flat, clad in his polka-dot pajamas and a look of pained disbelief. So much had happened in the last six hours, but the look he wore on his face when Betty's mother dragged her out of the house was one she knew she would never forget. It almost made her want to light the car on fire. Almost. She did have some self-control. Which, though sounding completely absurd, really wasn't. Because Betty was a witch.

Leaning her head against the window of the car, Betty tried her best to keep her emotions in check. She had wanted to stay with her father in Paris, more than anything, but in the end it all came down to her being a witch. Her dad was a Muggle, a non-magic folk, meaning that he wouldn't be there to help her with anything concerning _that_ side of her life. To Betty it didn't seem like a big deal. A lot of witches and wizards in her school have parents that are both Muggles, and they still get on well. But Florence Bertrand had decided that she wanted Betty to live with magic, just as she had when she was younger. And that was the end of that.

Betty was torn out of her thoughts as soon as Mrs. Bertrand drove into a pothole, causing the coat rack to Betty's left to fall on top of her.

"Ow! Mum! Votre conduite est horrible!" she exclaimed, pushing the coat hanger so that it fell to the ground.

She saw her mum's eyes in the rearview mirror, "Je suis désolé Bernadette," she called apologetically from the front seat. Betty huffed in response, readjusting herself to get comfortable again.

"Bettsie, why don't you practice your English?" Mrs. Bertrand asked in a way that made the move seem as if it were a foreign exchange program and not something permanent.

Betty didn't budge. She spent the earliest years of her childhood in England and remembered the language well enough, though she never felt too confident when she had to speak it.

"I don't want to live in England" she stated sourly.

"Nonsense," came the reply, "You'll love our new house."

"I won't see Papa"

"You can visit him when we're settled." Betty scoffed in response.

"And what about my friends?"

"You can make new ones."

"I want to go back to Beauxbatons"

Beauxbatons Academy of Magic was the school Betty used to attend. It was her favorite place in the world. When she first stepped through those beautifully decorated front gates she knew immediately that she would love being there. Her school was a grand palace, and she wasn't speaking metaphorically; it literally was a palace. With Rococo style architecture, the most majestic gardens, and complete with such precise attention to detail. Everything about her school was extravagant, and it made everyone feel like royalty just by walking down the corridors and strolling through the gardens. Betty missed it terribly. The thought of not attending her third year there made her heart sink.

"Oh, sweetie, just think about the positives" Mrs. Bertrand said, "you'll have a bigger room, and we'll live in an actual house! There are so many fun places to visit in England, and we could even visit Diagon Alley. You know, I loved going there before the school year started to get all of my supplies"

Betty couldn't possibly look at the positives when the negatives were too great. She knew her mother wouldn't understand what she was going through. Not only was she changing schools, but she was also lousy at making new friends and she was especially nervous about her English; she didn't want to say words in an accent. And now she was forced to go to Hogwarts. Betty had heard of Hogwarts but never held the school in high regard. From what her friends said about it, it seemed like the school only ever cared about Quidditch, a magical sport played on broomsticks, and it had the most distressing architecture. It was a castle, of course, but she knew it was nowhere near as fancy or well maintained as Beauxbatons. Even the name made her crinkle her nose in disgust.

"-and you'll love Hogwarts. I did. Oh, how I wish I could go back! Sure it's no Beauxbatons, but it's so charming in its own way," Mrs. Bertrand continued to ramble and Betty, tired from being angry, drifted off into a soundless sleep.

Slowly the knot that had been forming in the pit of her stomach began to undo itself.

* * *

When Betty woke up it was to a bright blue sky, a sore neck, and with no recollection of where she was or where she was going. It hit her like a punch in the gut when the last few hours came back to her. It felt like somebody had taken hold of her insides and squeezed them as tightly as possible. Solemnly, she sat up straight in her chair, rubbing her neck and watching as they passed by green pastures. She took notice of some cows that grazed lazily, and it made Betty realize how much she already missed the city.

Mrs. Bertrand was humming along to a tune on the radio. "Beg, Steal or Borrow" by the New Seekers was playing softly from the speakers.

"Are we there yet?" Betty asked in a voice laced with sleep.

Mrs. Bertrand's eyes looked at Betty from the rearview mirror, "Mhmm. Our portkey is not too far ahead."

Betty didn't say anything. A wicked thought ran through her mind. If at the last possible moment she let go of the portkey, she would be able to return back to Paris without her mother. It took a few seconds thought before Betty realized that there were far too many things that could go wrong. She couldn't apparate, nor drive the Chrysler, and quite frankly she hadn't any money on hand. Reluctantly, she dropped the idea.

After some time the car drove by a vineyard and Mrs. Bertrand turned towards a long winding driveway, stopping halfway when a turn of the path obstructed house up ahead from view.

Mrs. Bertrand got out of the car and took out a wand that she kept in her small purse. The purse was far too small to fit the wand, which averted any suspicion from muggles, for it was enchanted to hold just about anything.

Betty opened the door and stepped out of the car to stretch her legs. She took with her a yellow backpack filled with her important possessions. Mrs. Bertrand started working on the car, chanting a spell to make all the furniture piled in it fit into her purse, and reverting the car back to its normal, non-magic state. When it was done she motioned Betty back in and drove the rest of the way to the house on the hill. Once there, she left their car with a confused housekeeper, who was bewildered by their desire to leave the car in her possession.

Mrs. Bertrand didn't wait for a response. Instead, she made her way back down the hill with Betty walking steadily behind. When the two made it to the bottom they followed the road. Betty managed to make out a bus stop, which consisted of a bench and a sign, in the distance.

Betty didn't say anything to her mother, she just silently walked along behind her, occasionally looking up to the hill where the housekeeper, and now her dad's car, stood. Her dad was going to be furious.

The sun shone brightly overhead as they made their way along the road. Wildflowers grew in patches along the side, dotting the landscape with specks of yellow, purple, and pink hues.

When the Bertrands reached the bus stop, Mrs. Bertrand started walking behind the bench into a dense layer of grass.

"Come along Betty," she called when she noticed Betty still standing by the bench.

Reluctantly, Betty followed. She was wearing shorts, and knew that her legs would be covered in scratches once she stepped foot into the tall grass. Thankfully for Betty, it only took a few paces for Mrs. Bertrand to turn back to her daughter with a content smile. She looked at her watch.

"And not a second too soon," she said, "now Betty, I need you to hold onto this watering can."

Betty peered over the grass to see that there was indeed a tin watering can placed neatly next to some growing daisies. She followed her mother's instructions and placed her hand on the watering can.

At first nothing happened. And nothing continued to happen until finally, when Betty was about to open her mouth to complain, she felt an odd sensation pass over her, as if her body was rising off the ground. It was. In a second the duo were being spun this way and that. Betty's body felt as if it were being stretched in every which way, and her head was beginning to pound as the weird sensation took hold of her. When she was convinced she was going to throw up her insides the sensation stopped immediately and Betty felt herself roughly meeting the ground.

She turned to her back and stared straight up at the sky, which was speckled with cumulus clouds.

"I am never going to do that again," she breathed out, feeling bile rising in her throat.

"Alright Betty?" she heard her mother call, but the voice felt far away.

"I feel like death," she announced bitterly, struggling to get to her feet once she was certain she could handle it.

"That's the spirit," Mrs. Bertrand said, perfectly unfazed by the trip, "We've still got a little ways to walk."

Once her head stopped spinning, Betty looked around her. She was in England. In the country quite apparently, as the first thing she noticed were large hills of green. Cow parsley grew around her feet, and she picked one to distract her from the nauseating feeling in her stomach. Her glasses slid down the bridge of her nose as she did so, and she fixed them with her palm.

Mrs. Bertrand held up a bottle of water, which Betty thankfully took and the two started making their way through the picturesque landscape. Tall hills rose in the distance, colored in lush shades of green. The afternoon sky was a brilliant blue, and obscured from Betty's view was the clear lake that shimmered at the bottom of the hills.

"This is where I grew up," Mrs. Bertrand announced proudly.

They were making their way through the field the portkey dropped them off in. Further in the distance, once Betty squinted, she noticed a faint trace of color, and smoke drifting in the air.

"I think you'll have a great time here," Mrs. Bertrand said, effortlessly navigating her way through her surroundings, "You'll have all this space to run around in, we'll be able to start a shop, and you can make new friends."

The prospect of making new friends made Betty miserable. How was she to make new friends when it was the last thing on her mind? She didn't want to make new friends. Her old friends suited her just fine.

"Once we get into town we can floo to our new home. It's all prepared for us," Mrs. Bertrand continued, which lead Betty to believe that the whole affair had been discussed for some time. Her mom had never intended to stay with her dad.

The town they were to be living in was called Keswick, one of the larger towns located in the Lake District. Betty hadn't known what to expect, and as she followed her mother down the narrow winding road, she knew it was going to be nowhere the size of Paris. She hadn't seen a single person yet.

To her right were pastures where an occasional sheep or two greeted them at the edge of their enclosed stone fence. All Betty saw were miles of trees, grass, and a large lake in the distance. What was she ever going to do in a boring place such as this?

She heard her mother chattering but she didn't care to listen.

"-Of course, I got into Slytherin, and I'll be thrilled if you did too, but even if you didn't it wouldn't be the end of the world," Florence's voice flew in and out of Betty's attention.

"Maman," Betty said impatiently, "how much further is it?"

Mrs. Bertrand looked at her daughter, "Just another ten minutes."

* * *

Betty's feet were sore and her back was aching by the time they reached Keswick. The town looked old fashioned, with cottages lining the streets and shops placed further into the heart of the town. It was afternoon now and Betty was starving. A group of people passed by them as they walked to the town square.

"The town's a bit of a tourist attraction," Mrs. Bertrand said with a glance at the people in the square, "and tourists would be a great demographic for our shop," she said brightly.

Betty groaned. She just wanted to be in a bed so she could wallow in her misery. Was that too much to ask?

Just then a group of boys sped past them on their bikes. Betty followed them with her eyes, and one of the boys, about her age with short dirty blonde hair, looked back at her. He didn't take his eyes off her until he nearly trampled over a plump woman who was walking her dog. She irrupted into a fit of complaints, most of which were drowned by the laughter coming from the boy's friends.

The pale boy turned scarlet and peddled faster than ever away from the scene.

"Oh, here we are," Mrs. Bertrand announced, oblivious to the scene that just took place.

"Here" was a small bookshop in the center of town. A small bell chimed when Mrs. Bertrand opened the door. Betty followed her in. The shop was empty save for a short old woman with curly white hair and big round glasses. The glasses reminded Betty of her own, only two times bigger.

"Ah, Florence," the old woman hobbled over to her visitors, "I had been wondering when you would show up."

"Hello Mrs. Hill. I hope you're doing well," Mrs. Bertrand said.

Mrs. Hill nodded impatiently, "Fine, fine." She took a second to look at them before making her way to the back of the store, gesturing for the two to follow.

Mrs. Hill led them through a few bookshelves and to a large brick fireplace. Betty glanced around the room and her eye was caught on a copy of "A Wrinkle in Time." She picked it up as Mrs. Hill hobbled over to "gather up the floo" as she said to Mrs. Bertrand.

"Oh Betty put that down," Mrs. Bertrand said when she noticed Betty flipping through the pages of the science fiction story.

"She can have it if she likes," came the voice of Mrs. Hill, who looked almost disdainfully at Mrs. Bertrand. She held a small box in her hands, "I never find children reading much anymore."

Mrs. Bertrand looked at the book disapprovingly but didn't say a word. Betty smiled. She knew her mother hated muggle literature.

"Do you have a cat Mrs. Hill?" Betty asked, as they stood in front of the fireplace.

"A bat? Heavens no. Why on earth would you need a bat for?" Mrs. Hill said, her eyes, already huge in the large glasses she wore, appeared even bigger with her shocked expression.

"No, a CAT," Betty repeated.

"Oh, of course. I have about four of them. Always hiding around somewhere. Feel free to come by and keep them company if it suits you."

"Yeah, alright," Betty said with a small smile. She had always wanted a cat.

Mrs. Hill poured some floo powder into Betty's hand and Mrs. Bertrand made sure to tell her the exact destination so that when Betty walked in the mouth of the fireplace she recited "Brandlehow Hill" perfectly, and away she went. The green flame engulfed her and in the next second Betty found herself closing her eyes, so as not to repeat what had happened with the portkey. She tucked in her arms and waited patiently until the spinning sensation stopped.

When her hair fell gently onto her shoulders, Betty opened her eyes cautiously. She was in an empty living room. The walls were a bare white and the floor was made of wood, though incredibly dusty and with scattered leaves and twigs. Betty stepped out of the fireplace and looked around. She went to an adjacent room, where she found a small kitchen with a sloping ceiling. There was less debris in this room, but it was empty of anything meaningful and still quite dusty. Betty didn't like what she saw at all. She had thought their house would be neat and proper and already prepared for their arrival. This house looked as though it had been abandoned for at least a decade.

Betty was about to explore more of it when a loud popping noise erupted. Betty went back to the living room just as Mrs. Bertrand stepped out of the fireplace, dusting off her dress. She wore an unreadable expression on her face. Betty wasn't sure if this was the house she was expecting. With pursed lips Mrs. Bertrand looked around the living room.

Then she placed her hands on her hips and said, "Right. Well we've got a bit of work to do. But it shouldn't take too long to clean up the place. Especially with magic."

She turned to her daughter and together they made their way around the house. A part of Betty was excited about the move, because it allowed her a new place to explore, and that part of her dominated the scene because in the last few hours she forgot just how miserable she had felt.

"How's the kitchen?" Mrs. Bertrand asked, following her daughter into the small space that was located at the east side of the house.

"Small, cramped, and definitely not something you would like," Betty said.

Betty was right, Mrs. Bertrand did not like it. The ceiling was so low that she could touch it simply by extending her hand up.

"It is cramped," Mrs. Bertrand agreed, but with a little more optimism convinced her daughter that once it was properly cleaned and decorated it would suit them just fine. Betty remained skeptical.

Towards the south part of the house was a staircase that led to the two bedrooms and bathroom. Betty decided to explore the second floor while Mrs. Bertrand continued to wander around the first. Betty was eager to pick out her room.

The staircase lead to a hallway with three doors; two on each side of the house and one straight ahead. She figured the room in the middle was the bathroom, so she hurried on to open the door of the room to the left.

When she opened it she was surprised to see that the room was rather large. She supposed it must have been a sitting room, for there was a large bookcase in one corner of the room that looked as though it had been there for ages, and two old armchairs leaning against the wall. The queer thing about it was that there was a complete lack of dust in the room. On one of the armchairs lay a blanket, and when she picked it up, Betty could tell that it wasn't a part of what was left behind in the home. It looked far too new. As she put the blanket back down her foot hit a solid object near the armchair. It was a lantern.

This was a mystery, and Betty loved mysteries, though she only ever read about them. But now that she was actually a part of one, she felt a new wave of excitement rushing over her. Quickly, she picked up both the blanket and lantern and hid them behind the bookcase, where she was sure her mother wouldn't notice them.

Betty cracked open a window, and she could faintly see a lake, Derwentwater lake she recalled her mother saying, in the distance. Deciding that the mysterious objects and view were worth the room, Betty was convinced that this side of the house would be hers. She would just have to get rid of the armchairs.

Deciding to finish exploring, Betty left the room to have a peek inside the bathroom, which was dirty, and the other bedroom, which was dusty and unused. The only piece of furniture in the room was an old bed frame. The view from the window wasn't as great. Instead of looking at the lake, she was looking at a forest.

Content with her choice, Betty hurried down the stairs where her mother had enchanted the cleaning supplies to start dusting, sweeping, and mopping. Betty blinked. It already felt like a whole other house.

"The living room's done," Mrs. Bertrand said brightly, waving her wand at her purse, where furniture continued to float out of.

Betty poked her head into the living room and gasped in amazement. Adorned on the ceiling was their chandelier, and around the room were pieces of their furniture: a loveseat, coffee table, side table, their grand piano, curtains, and even more smaller details. It was completely transformed. Something that someone without magic would have believed was impossible to do in the span of twenty minutes.

"Why don't you go gather some flowers to put into the vase?" Mrs. Bertrand suggested when Betty walked back into the kitchen. Betty agreed.

"I like the bedroom on the left, maman," she chimed before disappearing through the back door. She poked her head back in a moment later, "but don't get rid of the bookcase. I want to keep it."

Mrs. Bertrand agreed, but Betty was already flying out of the door, though not literally. She breathed in the rich cool air. Pine, oak, and birch trees grew nearby, sending ripples of light in between their branches down on the young girl below. It took Betty a second before she noticed a path that had been formed out of the tall grass and heather. It lead from the woods to the backdoor of their home. Curious as she was, Betty followed it into the woods. It didn't take long for her to realize that the trail led to the street, and from there she wasn't sure where to go.

Instead of continuing her search, she followed the road back to their new house, and picked up some sweet peas that happened to grow nearby. She was certain she had picked them from somebody's garden. With some daisies and dog-rose, the bouquet was complete. The setting sun exhausted its last breath of light onto the town as Betty opened the door of her home.

Inside, Mrs. Bertrand was sitting on a loveseat while dinner cooked in the kitchen. Betty put the flowers in a vase and joined her mother. She curled up next to her, and with her mother's arm around her body she felt like she was small again. She peered around the room and her sadness returned. The day may have been eventful and fun, but it didn't change the fact that they had left France, left her father, and started over all on their own.

When Mrs. Bertrand brought out dinner, Betty found that she wasn't hungry and as a result ate very little. On her way up to her room, which now looked almost as it had in Paris, she made sure to check that the blanket and lantern she found earlier were still hidden behind the bookcase. When she saw that they were, Betty didn't bother taking off her clothes, she just buried herself under the covers where she felt the knot in her stomach returning all at once.

* * *

 **That's all for chapter 1! Next chapter will either introduce Francesca or continue Betty's story. Also, if you go on my tumblr account I have a little section of my page dedicated to the main characters if you're curious about them. Thanks for getting this far & please let me know what you thought of it! **


	4. The Trio

Sometimes it seems as if the whole world is against you. It gets better.

 **Chapter 2: The Trio**

 **-The Summer of 1972-**

 **Betty**

Betty was most likely the only witch in all of the United Kingdom to not receive her Hogwarts acceptance letter, and that was entirely the fault of her having gone to another wizarding school for the past 2 years. Mrs. Bertrand called her over to the kitchen table one sunny morning where she explained her schooling situation. The smell of blueberry pancakes wafted around the room as Betty took a seat across from her mother.

"I owled the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and he assured me that you will be able to attend your third year there. We'll stop by the school next week and you'll be able to get sorted into your house," Mrs. Bertrand explained matter-of-factly.

"But I've already gone to Beauxbatons for TWO years," Betty protested, finally voicing the anger she's been holding back since they left France, "It's not fair that I have to leave and go to a new school. I'm not going to know anyone there!"

"You can make new friends Betty, and write letters to your old ones. I know this isn't what's normally done, but this is how it's going to be," Mrs. Bertrand said firmly, rising from her seat.

"I don't get it _Maman_ , why did we even move out here? Are you leaving Papa?" Betty heard her voice break as the realization hit her.

The weight of the question hung silently in the air. Mrs. Bertrand put a hand to her forehead, looking irritated. When she looked back at her daughter it was with a pained frown.

"I don't know Betty," she said quietly, "I think we need some time apart to figure things out."

Betty pursed her lips and pushed herself up from the table with such force that it almost made her chair fall over. She knew that was a terrible excuse. People shouldn't run away from their problems like her mom does, they should face them head on.

"Fine," Betty said bitterly, "Don't tell me."

Her mother didn't say anything but watched her daughter's retreating figure climbed the stairs, taking them 2 at a time. The older woman sighed and stared at the pancakes, feeling both irritated and defeated.

Betty collapsed face first on her bed. She wanted to scream into her pillow but knew her mother hadn't left the house, and she didn't want her to know just how hurt she was with this whole arrangement. Betty had only been at their new house for a few days, and those early days were busy enough to keep her occupied. But now the finality of the move was finally sinking in. She wasn't going to see her father and she wasn't going to Beauxbatons. If she didn't know any better she would have thought that the move was to get away from her father, not a change in pace or any other rubbish her mother insisted it was.

She had expected her dad to arrive a day or two after them. At least that's what Betty was told weeks before the arrangement happened. But she should have known that the abrupt departure meant her parents were not on good terms. Breathing in the scent of her bedsheets Betty thought long and hard about what she had to do from here. She thought of contacting her dad through owl post, but they didn't have an owl so she knew that would be near impossible. They didn't have a phone installed, so calling him the Muggle way was out of the question. The best thing she figured she could do would be to visit Mrs. Hill and ask to borrow her owl. That, she decided finally, laying on her bed and letting hot tears roll down her face, would be what she would do.

* * *

 **Fran**

Francesca Walsh, with her short ginger hair and timid personality was a bit taller than a broomstick, which is to say she was a little over five feet tall. This is an important fact to state because when shopping for outfits she finds it very hard to find the clothes she wants for her short, chubby body.

Fran received her Hogwarts letter today when Widget, her owl, flew into her bedroom and deposited it gracefully at the foot of her bed. She tore it open immediately. It contained her standard list of books and requirements for her third year. The thought of starting another school year made her equal parts anxious and determined. This year, she repeated to herself for what seemed like the millionth time all summer, she would finally make a friend. She would talk to people, and she would participate in things, even if it killed her, and she was fairly sure that it would at some point.

She placed the letter on her vanity before catching a glimpse of herself in her mirror. Francesca hated her full length mirror. It was enchanted to comment on her appearance, which would have been pleasant enough, if she had believed in what it said. She was facing it, turning her body slowly so as to make sure her outfit was the way she wanted it to be. It usually was. She wore a purple blouse paired with a denim skirt and a butterfly hair clip secured in her wavy hair. The light pouring in from her window shone on her ginger curly locks and made her hair look like it was on fire.

"Darling you look stunning," her mirror said, but all Fran saw when she looked at herself in the glamorous outfit was her body shape. She was fat. There was too much of her everywhere. She could never fit into the slim outfits that were always displayed in storefront windows, and that fact alone distressed her greatly. The clothes that often made her feel better weren't allowed for everyday wear at Hogwarts. Instead, students had to abide by the rules, wearing a sodding sweater and tie and skirt that always, _always_ , made her thighs look much too big.

Fran sighed and collapsed face first on her bed. Her mom, Mrs. Walsh, was taking her shopping for some of her supplies and a few new outfits this morning and Fran was supposed to meet her downstairs 5 minutes ago. Just then she heard her door squeak open and saw her 9 year old sister's head poke through it. Colleen Walsh was a petite girl with shoulder length brown hair and mischievous blue eyes. Her body was thin, just like her mothers, and Fran couldn't help envying it.

"Mum is waiting for you," the young girl said.

"Alright, I'm coming down," Francesca replied, smiling lightly.

Colleen grabbed her sisters hand and the two of them raced through the hallway and down the large winding stairs. Downstairs her mother was seated in their parlor, flipping through a wizarding magazine which contained moving pictures of models showing off the latest clothing and accessories.

If someone met Mrs. Walsh on the street they would say that she was effortlessly elegant. She was in her thirties, yet had the spirit and youth of someone in their twenties. She was a tall woman with a curvy body and dark auburn hair, and she tended to wear long, flowy dresses that Fran thought made her look even more youthful. Fran admired her greatly. She was convinced that there was nobody in the world more beautiful than her own mother. Today she wore a periwinkle dress that was covered in a floral print and a pair of dark heels.

"Are you ready Franny?" Mrs. Walsh asked her daughter as Colleen rushed up to peer at the magazine before enveloping her mother in a hug.

"I am," Fran said with a smile, "Where are we off to today?"

Mrs. Walsh put a single finger to her cherry red lips in thought, "I was thinking about a trip to Bath."

"Bath sounds nice," Fran said kindly.

"Perfect," responded her mother and she left to get the floo powder. Colleen bounced around excitedly.

They arrived in Bath to sunny, cloudless weather, which Mrs. Walsh believed was created "just for them." The Georgian architecture that presented itself in the streets made Fran feel as if she travelled back in time to a different era. Granted, Hogwarts sometimes makes her feel that way too. Walking along the cobblestone streets, Fran, Colleen, and her mother wandered into as many shops as they liked. The sun was high in the sky and so were almost all their spirits.

It wasn't until the end of their trip that the Walsh girls decided to go shopping for clothes. There were only a few wizarding shops in Bath, so the three decided to shop at the Muggle stores with the most dazzling store front windows. Fran tried not to think about how the mannequins were as thin as her pinkie. She also ignored the fact that the stores would probably not carry anything in her size. Whenever they went into one she went over to browse through the accessories instead.

"Fran, look" Colleen called, strutting to her sister with two feather boas wrapped around her neck and a pair of sunglasses that were entirely too large for her balanced on the edge of her nose. She blew her sister a kiss and Fran couldn't help but laugh in spite of herself. Her sister was the silliest person she knew.

Unfortunately not everyone felt that way. A store assistant cleared her throat from behind a rack of clothes and Colleen quickly took off her costume, sticking out her tongue in mock anger at the assistant when she had her back turned. Fran smiled as she turned back to the jewelry she was inspecting and thought about how much she would miss her sister when she left for Hogwarts.

Fran had always hoped Colleen would get into Hogwarts, but though she was spunky and outgoing, she hadn't shown any of the signs of being a witch that Fran had when she was her age. But this isn't entirely out of the ordinary since her mom was the only witch in her family. And even she had come from a long line of Muggles.

Picking up some moon shaped earrings, Fran made her way towards her mother, and the trio left the store a few moments later, each with a small bag in hand.

"Ice cream before we floo back?" Colleen asked eagerly, swinging her bag and walking a few paces in front of her mother and sister.

Mrs. Walsh nodded, "As long as you eat them before we leave. I don't want your brother and sister to get upset if they see you with ice cream and they didn't get any."

The shop the trio stopped at for ice cream was called The Frozen Spoon, evidently popular because a crowd of people was standing outside the parlor. Colleen raced up ahead to secure a place in the queue, while Mrs. Walsh and Fran took their time behind her.

"I noticed you got a pair of earrings from the shop," Mrs. Walsh began, linking her arm with her daughters.

Fran nodded and Mrs. Walsh continued, "I'm sure they're really lovely. I saw a really nice skirt in the back of the store. It would have looked very cute with the purple blouse you have at home."

Fran felt a weight fall into the pit of her stomach.

"It was probably too small," she said casually, but her Mum knew the topic was a sensitive one.

"Nothing a little magic can't fix," she smiled reassuringly at her daughter, "You just have a different body shape, and there's nothing wrong with that."

Fran forced a smile, and her mother, content, dropped the subject. She wasn't sure if she believed her Mum, but she didn't want to dwell on the topic.

They reached The Frozen Spoon and waited a little less than half an hour for ice cream, all the while Colleen bounced on the balls of her feet in anticipation. She stared eagerly at the flavors displayed behind the glass case while working out an order in her head. In the end, Mrs. Walsh had chosen a classic vanilla, Colleen decided on chocolate chip, and Fran, who wasn't much in the mood for ice cream, picked chocolate. She ate it without much enthusiasm.

As the trio sat on a bench, they chatted aimlessly about trivial things, things Fran didn't feel a part of. So for the rest of their time Fran thought back to Hogwarts, back to how Marlene McKinnon had managed to convince all the second year girls that Fran was too disgusting to be friends with. And how, though she knew it was a stupid reason to not be friends with someone, they all listened. The hurt she felt then resurfaced, just as strongly as the day it happened. What would it take for it to finally go away?

* * *

 **Oli**

Oliver Bones didn't have a good relationship with his father. He was only ever called handsome by his mother and typically on days where he left the house dressed nicer than usual. He tended to care about his appearance. He was sensitive, preferring to stick his nose in books and learn about history then go to social gatherings and pretend to get along with people he didn't quite care for. In short he was an anomaly. The only person in his family to not care about Quidditch. His mother said he was just going through a phase. Maybe he was, but he was sure it didn't feel like one. And it worried him that the people who loved him didn't accept him the way he was.

So at a young age he learned to conform. He didn't talk about Quidditch and in the end that only made him grow distant from his family. Even his sister, whom he once shared everything with, didn't quite understand him. Amelia Bones was perfect. She had been Head Girl when she attended Hogwarts, getting near perfect scores on her OWLS and graduating at the top of her class. Oliver couldn't compare, though he tried.

It was a cloudy Wednesday morning and Oliver was sitting at his desk reading a book, but his thoughts had wandered elsewhere. The window, which was conveniently placed right above his desk, was open, allowing a cool breeze of salty sea air to fragrance the room. Oli bit the end of his pen as he read through a passage about the history of transfiguration. He read the same passage three times.

A few minutes later he heard a knock at his door, which was followed up by the appearance of a small house elf with huge ears. The house elf wore a pillowcase and stood nervously by the door.

"Master Oliver," Pokey the house elf said with a voice that was high pitched and squeaky, "You're wanted downstairs to greet your cousins."

Pokey was an abnormally small house elf with large bat-like ears and a thin body. This made him look very peculiar, especially compared to other house elves. His eyes were large and always seemed to be filled with a alarm.

"Oh!" Pokey said rather abruptly as Oliver started to make his way towards him, "Mistress Bones wanted me to deliver your Hogwarts letter!"

He pulled a letter out of his pillowcase with emerald green writing. Oli almost tripped over his chair in his haste to take the letter from Pokey's hands.

"M-Mistress says that you will go with your cousins to get your supplies on Saturday," Pokey informed him, looking very pleased with himself for passing on the message.

"Thanks Pokey," Oliver said, tucking in his letter in his pant pocket before following the house elf down the stairs.

As he descended he heard the faint sound of conversation. His loud footfalls announced his arrival, and as Oliver turned the corner to the living room he was met with nine pairs of eyes.

"Oh here he is," said his Great-Aunt Helena, whose assertive personality always made her a bit of a spokesperson for her family, "Well don't you look handsome dear."

"He does, doesn't he? How are you doing Oliver sweety?" asked Aunt Geraldine, whose makeup looked as though it belonged at cirque de sole. Both women were covered in clothes that had far too many frills then was probably necessary. The rest of the room smiled to him before returning to their own conversations. Oli noticed his parents in the back of the room talking to his Uncle Halbert and youngest cousin Morgan.

"Er… I'm fine," Oliver replied timidly.

Not wanting to be forced into a conversation with both his aunt and great-aunt he scanned the room quickly, looking for a way out. Unfortunately, Mary, the only cousin he managed to get along well with, was talking very gesturally to her parents, and he didn't quite want to butt into her conversation.

The two older ladies stared him down until he had no choice but to lower himself into the seat across from them.

"My my my, Oliver, why you're so handsome you must be hiding a girlfriend," assumed Aunt Geraldine, passing him a silver platter full of gooey looking pastries. Oliver politely accepted one, only to instantly regret it as what he presumed must have been caramel dripped down his fingers. He stuffed the whole pastry in his mouth, prolonging the time before he had to answer the inevitable stream of personal questions.

"N-No girlfriend," Oliver choked on his pastry and he saw that both women were not pleased with his answer.

"Well you do have a bit of time, I suppose. But Amelia was around your age when she met Castor, wasn't she? And they should be getting married sooner or later now, shouldn't they?" observed Great-Aunt Helena.

"Er-maybe," Oliver said politely. He had no idea if his sister was still with her school crush now that he thought about it. He rarely spoke to her anymore.

"And how's school going? Have you figured out what you want to do yet?" pressed his Aunt.

"You know you're father wants you working at the Ministry of Magic with him. I think that would be quite a fitting career"

"Of course Amelia didn't choose the Ministry, but you're a young man, so of you will, won't you?"

Oliver stared at the women nervously as they bombarded him with question after question. His mind raced trying to come up with an excuse that would get him out of this conversation, but it felt like his brain completely shut off as he stared awkwardly at his hopeful aunts.

"I-uh-I'm not sure what I'll be doing yet," Oliver finally lied. He wanted to study history.

"Well you still have some time," commented Aunt Geraldine.

"But not too much time, so I suggest taking some steps to secure yourself a position. I could arrange a tour of the Ministry for you," Great-Aunt Helena added, pulling out a quill from her large handbag.

"NO! I mean n-not right now. My dad can always give me a tour, you know, because he works there too," Oliver said hastily.

"He can, but I'm sure you'd like to meet some new faces, and trust me I know many in very high positions of authority," continued his Great-Aunt.

Oliver watched as the quill moved across her piece of parchment. What else could he say to stall her? What else could he say to make sure that he wasn't going to be forced into taking a tour of the Ministry with Great-Aunt Helena? He would take anything but a trip with Great-Aunt Helena. He couldn't imagine a worse outing, and he was dead sure that she was going to make it happen. And the fact that he wasn't at all hoping for a job at the Ministry of Magic made him uncomfortable, especially in the face of his two vulture-like relatives who kept pushing him to be the next Minister of Magic.

"Well, I'm not really sure about that-" Oliver started.

"Nonsense. It'll be my gift to you," Great-Aunt Helena stated.

"Is there a return policy?" Oli wanted to ask, but knew better than to get smart with his aunts.

Help came in the form of Mary Bones, a fit bodied girl of 10, who's knowledge of social situations were far superior to Olivers.

"Oh Aunty Helena," she said in a sing-song voice, "Oliver wanted to show me a book in his room, and you know how much I love to learn, so I'll have to steal him for a while. But Theo just got a tattoo- (both woman gave audible gasps) and I wanted you to be the first to know before I told Mum and Dad," she said in a tone Oliver recognized as one she used when she was pretending to act serious.

"THEODORE!" Great-aunt Helena called as Mary and Oliver slipped past them and up the stairs. They almost ran into Pokey who was carrying a tray of refreshments.

"Unbelievable," Oliver said in amazement, "I can't believe you managed to get us away so quickly."

Mary smirked, "It's easy Oli. Plus it was really painful watching you try to answer their questions."

Oliver shrugged, "I feel real bad lying to them."

"Don't," Mary advised, running up to the landing before Theodore had the chance to notice her. She caught a glimpse of him getting scolded by Great-Aunt Helena.

"So did you get your letter?" Oliver asked abruptly, running after her.

Mary's face lit up in excitement and he knew the answer. She pulled out a folded up letter from her cardigan pocket. Oliver smiled.

"I am SO excited Oli!" she beamed, "We can ride the train together and you introduce me to all your friends, and Mum said we're going to Diagon Alley together so that should be lots of fun too!"

"Yeah, I'm sure you'll love Hogwarts," Oli said opening the door to his room, "Want to finally open your letter?"

"I've been dying to," Mary said, already tearing out the piece of parchment. Her eyes darted across the page, speed reading.

Oliver reached into his pocket for his own letter and opened it carefully. He pulled out his list of requirements, scanning the items and making a mental note of what needed to be bought. He wasn't sure if he was excited about this upcoming school year. It felt like another year dedicated to getting good grades and appealing to his parents wishes. The closer he got to taking the O.W.L.s the more stressed he felt about school. He still had time. And after he finished Hogwarts he could finally focus on what he wanted to do.

Dropping the letter on his desk, he walked back to Mary. She was now sitting on his bed and he joined her, leaning back on his elbows as he listened to her explain all her theories about the wizarding school. The sea ocean breeze wafted into the room and Oliver smiled and secretly wished that the summer would go on forever.

* * *

 **A/N: That's all for this chapter! It was a bit of an introduction to the trio that will eventually be friends. After this chapter there will be fewer chapters about Fran and Oli, since the story is more focused on Betty, but that doesn't mean they won't pop up from time to time.**

 **The next update won't be until January, when I have my winter break. I have college to focus on so I hope that's understandable. Anywho, thank you so much for reading, and I'd love to hear any of your thoughts on this story!**


End file.
